


Lennox Series Compilation

by Yoselin



Series: L&L Tumblr Prompts [32]
Category: Love & Legends (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-08-26 09:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16679383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoselin/pseuds/Yoselin
Summary: All parts of my Lennox series grouped together for easier access.





	1. “Do you trust me?”

It is truly astounding how fate has led up to this. Nearly two years ago, I was just a girl from Chicago struggling through student loans and a mediocre office job. Then a lightning storm hit and I was suddenly being thrust into a world marred by war and strife.  
From there, time blurs and warps.  
Somehow I found myself becoming a prisoner of war to what was left of the Witch Queen’s Generals, and then found myself becoming Lennox’s.  
At first I had struggled, resisted bitterly against him and hated him, but then I had grown to understand him. Rather than seeing a captor callous to killing and using others like playthings, I saw a tortured soul in need of compassion and warmth.  
Lennox pushed others away, frightened them and made them hate him, and that made him lonely. His eyes held pain hidden behind malice. That had broken my heart. From the moment I had seen the pain locked away in his golden eyes, I had swore to myself that I would fix it.  
Now, a year later, I was confident I was doing just that. It is difficult to keep Lennox out of trouble, he practically radiates it, but I’ve managed somehow. I’ve learned to navigate his personality, soothe his ego, and melt his ire. It is hard sometimes, but I’ve become an expert.  
With just simple words and touches, I can calm him down. I can get him to see reason and back off from confrontation.  
This is a gift that I have to employ often-  
Like now.  
My fingers press to my throat in trepidation and I watch the scene before me.  
Lennox has a cultist of his pinned against the chapel wall. The man has endured a severe beating at his hands for the past few minutes and looks inches away from blacking out. The dagger at his throat isn’t helping either.  
To the side, the other cultists try to make themselves scarce. They flatten against the stained glass windows of the tiny church and avoid looking directly at the conflict lest they be sucked in.  
I gnaw on my bottom lip as the blade presses closer to the man’s throat. A rivulet of red springs from where the knife digs into the skin, and I decide that is my cue.  
Softening my expression into a gentle smile, I move my hands behind my back and lower my voice into something sweet.  
“Lennox, that’s enough, I think he’s learned his lesson,” I murmur.  
One of my hands comes to rest against Lennox’s arm holding the knife, and I softly trace my fingers around his arm. Pressing close so that I am leaning against his back, I rest my chin on his shoulder.  
“Stop before you kill him, yeah?” I whisper.  
Lennox glares at me, yet I meet his stare head on. I’ve learned to read when his anger becomes a threat to me, and this is not one of those times. Hence, I feel entirely at ease at his side.  
“Don’t get involved, Hannah,” he snaps.  
I click my tongue and slowly take the knife from his hand. He lets me, eyeing me with irritation, and I wipe the bloodied blade against my dress.  
“You really need to get your anger in control, love. Red isn’t a pretty color on you. Now, if you’re done, why don’t you take me home?”  
I tuck the dagger into his pocket then pull out the handkerchief he keeps in his other one. Using this, I wipe at the blood gently on his cheek.  
He lets me for a tick then bats my hand away. Sending me a warning glare that has no effect, he releases his hold on his cultist who promptly passes out. His body slides to the cobbled floor with a thud and I narrowly avoid getting blood on my shoes.  
Biting my cheek at the horrid display, I slip my hand into Lennox’s palm and tug at it.  
“Can we go now? I feel sick.” I make a face to stress my point.  
“In a moment,” he hisses.  
He moves to approach his congregation, still silently cowering against the windows, yet my grip remains strong in his. Noting this, he makes no attempt to free himself. Instead, his thumb traces a pattern into my knuckles.  
I let him and squeeze his hand in turn. A show of silent support that easily lifts some of the tension and anger from his shoulders.  
“This man tried to desert our Queen, he has paid for his crimes now. As soon as he awakes, I call upon my true believers to take him into custody. He shall become a sacrifice to the Queen he has tried to abandon. I leave his fate to her Majesty. Let the world know that I am a kind preacher who will not take his life myself and will instead let him redeem himself through sacrifice.”  
His voice echoes against the hall and I feel a soft smile playing on my lips.  
The confidence he radiates now is exhilarating. Once, only anger bled through his body, but now he seems at ease with the world around him.  
His words sink in to the masses and some of the fear ebbs away. His voice is powerful, commanding, and it demands compliance. Lennox has a power about him that creates subservience and breeds obedience. His gift is truly astounding and it has taken my breath away more times than I can count.  
Out of sheer excitement, I squeeze his hand again.  
Satisfied with his cultists, he turns away. His overcoat swishes behind his heels and he tugs at my arm. His grip is forceful, strong, and I have to hurry to keep up with his long strides.  
“Are you alright?” I ask. The chapel door swings shut behind us and a shrill whistle from his lips brings a carriage around.  
“Fine,” he snaps back.  
His tone is venomous, biting, and I ignore it. He isn’t mad at me, I know, he’s still seething from his cult’s disobedience. I’ve learned not to take his anger to heart.  
The carriage door swings open and he steps in first. He swings himself into the tiny room then extends his hand to me almost as an afterthought. I don’t let this get to me. The fact that he even remembers to help me in is an improvement. At one point he used to hurt me until I managed to get in on my own.  
Once inside the carriage, I smooth out my skirts and fold my legs to the side. My hands go to his on his lap and I intertwine our fingers together.  
“Your knuckles are bruised,” I comment. My fingers trace at the blooming wounds across his hands.  
He pulls his hands out of my grasp. “You are a nuisance.”  
His tone is biting again and I see his Adam’s Apple jump. This is a sign that his temper is simmering again. I shudder, nervousness eating at my stomach, and press my hands tightly to my legs.  
The carriage jerks forward and we are on the move. Asides from the clapping of the horse’s hooves against the pavement, it is quiet.  
I don’t like the quiet. More than that, I don’t like what the quiet means.  
Quiet means that Lennox is stirring in his thoughts mentally, putting up walls that take forever to breach, forcing me out of his mind with a lock and key. This is always a nerve wracking event.  
I need to know what he is thinking. His mind is often a swirl of rage and scheming that I need to regulate. Before he had me, Lennox was reckless in everything he did. Without me, I fear he could easily get himself killed.  
I breathe out a sigh, assess the mood again, and bite my lip. In the few moments that we’ve been on the move, his rage has gone down. From the way some of the tension is leaving his shoulders and his eyes are flickering to me, I know he feels better now.  
I let this motivate me.  
Moving so that I am now seated next to him and almost tucked into his side, I rest my head on his shoulder.  
As always, Lennox gets tense when he senses me. His body locks up, his hands move for his knife, and his gaze bores into me with venom-  
But then he relaxes. His hands go from his dagger to his sides and he squares his jaw with a prickle of annoyance.  
“Have I ever told you how clingy you are?”  
“Always,” I chirp. My hands grab his again and I brush the bruises on his knuckles with the tips of my fingers. He flinches and hisses a warning at me yet I continue. “Your temper is growing worse by the day. You really need to learn to count to ten before acting out. Your cult is already fractured enough as it is with the growing war with Wolfson and the others, the last thing you need is a reason for them to break away.”  
Lennox shoves my hands away with a huff and I flinch. Perhaps I pushed too far. I can feel the walls coming up around him again. If there’s one thing he hates is me telling him how to manage his church. I need to back off slightly and move on to the greater elephant in the room.  
I move my head away from his shoulder and fold my hands across my lap. He takes the time to pull his dagger from his pocket and twirl it around his fingers. I watch as the blade glints in the sunlight as he moves it from finger to finger like a pencil. Once I was afraid of him cutting himself, but I’ve since learned that his expertise is far too great to allow himself to be injured.  
I tear my gaze away from his fidgeting and bite the inside of my cheek.  
“I’m serious about your temper, Lennox. You get angry too quickly and don’t think before you act. Last week Alain almost took your head, the week before that it was Helena. If you don’t reel in your temper, I’m afraid of what might happen.”  
The carriage is quiet. I bite my lip hard enough until it stings.  
“You scared me today. The moment you jumped out of your seat and attacked that cultist, I was afraid. I haven’t seen you like that in a long time, Lennox, not since I tried to escape last year,” I drop my voice, “I was afraid of you.”  
My words echo against the carriage walls although I have no idea if they ring true. Lennox makes no effort to speak or defend himself. He always shuts down when I scold him and sometimes he blatantly ignores me. I don’t know if this is one of those times.  
More than a little frustrated with his lack of response, I look away. I entertain myself with staring at the passing landscape from the carriage window. I busy myself counting the passing trees like seconds if only to give myself something to do other than fret. My piece has been said today and I don’t want to keep pushing him.  
Last time I scolded Lennox, he threatened to slit my throat before shoving me out of the carriage and forcing me to walk the rest of the way to the palace. Since then, I’ve learned to pick my battles and keep quiet.  
I make it to tree number 42 before Lennox seizes my arm. I hiss as his nails dig into my arm and he yanks the sleeve of my dress down.  
His knife dances across my skin and he applies pressure along my radial artery. The blade’s cool metal presses against my skin yet it doesn’t go deep enough to break the it. I clench my jaw.  
“ **Do you trust me?** ” Lennox asks.  
A test. I don’t hesitate.  
“Yes,” I breathe out.  
He moves the blade along and carves a path. This time the skin is broken and some blood wells up. I hiss in pain and he moves the knife up to my throat.  
I tilt my head back to give him access.  
The knife presses against old scars there, scars where he had played this game before, once even to the point of nearly severing my jugular vein. I let him.  
“How confident are you that I will keep you alive? You have become an annoyance for far too long,” he presses his lips to my ear.  
I don’t reply, the knife at the side of my neck making it impossible, and just place my hand over the one with the knife.  
We stay like that for a few moments, locked in a risky game, and then Lennox withdraws. He slides the knife down where a tiny pinprick of pain registers before going back to twirling it.  
I press my finger to the side of my neck and feel a small spot of blood where the skin was breached. I wipe it away with my sleeve and put my hand on his knee.  
“You would never kill me,” I whisper.  
“Why are you so confident? I am growing very bored with you and may just want an upgrade. I could stab you right now and leave your body in the woods to rot. No one would care. I would not care,” he hisses.  
I shake my head and guide his hand with the knife to my left side. I rest it there, between my fourth and fifth rib, and meet his gaze with a challenge.  
“You’ve had plenty of chances already. The truth is you love me,” I tease. To goad him further, I apply pressure on his grip.  
The blade cuts through my dress but never goes past the fabric. I feel the cold metal against my skin for a brief moment before he pulls his grip free.  
He scoffs. “Love is a child’s fable. I tolerate you.”  
I shrug, undaunted, and take the knife from him. He watches as I twirl it around my own fingers with mild interest, only cutting myself s few times, and leans his head black.  
“Well I do love you,” I retort.  
I give a final twirl of the knife, slice my palm painfully until blood drips down unto the floor of the carriage, then press my palm against my dress to stop it.  
Lennox snorts, amused, and takes my palm. He pulls his handkerchief out and presses it into my hand with more force than necessary then drops it. I stare down at the white fabric as it slowly turns red.  
He gathers the knife and licks at the bloodied blade before pushing it into his coat pocket.  
“It wasn’t that long ago,” he begins, “that you told me you hated me. You said the false Lord and his crew would rescue you from me and that you would make me pay. You used to hate me back then and would find every opportunity to run. What changed?”  
“You broke my leg so I couldn’t run,” I remind him. I tap at my knee with my non injured hand. “You shattered the bone so I couldn’t escape then nursed me back to health. That was the first time I realized you had a heart.”  
I close my eyes at the memory then lean close and press a kiss to his jaw. He moves away with a sound of disgust, yet I manage to catch the way his eyes soften a fraction.  
Lennox may try to hide it, but he does enjoy physical affection. Every kiss, every touch, every embrace, is silently enjoyed.  
In a life so unused to affection, he craves physical comfort. He may shove me away, mock me for being so clingy, or wipe away at his mouth, but I know he likes it.  
I feel it in the way he lets out a tiny breath of air with every touch, in the way his body replies to my stimulation, or in the way a silent groan leaves the back of his throat when he is driven to his peak.  
Either way, I know he cares.  
I repeat the action again, this time pressing my lips to his throat, and am rewarded with a small pant of a breath that he tries to hide. Smiling against his skin, I press my nose to the crook of his throat and shoulder and inhale his scent. He smells of blood and cologne, a bizarre combination that only he could pull off. I let my eyes close.  
The silence settles around us comfortably and carries on. I almost doze off with how long it lasts, utterly comfortable at his side, when Lennox moves his arm and jolts me awake. I blink up to find him staring down at me.  
“You are an enigma. I could easily kill you and not feel any remorse yet you remain by my side. Are you a masochist? Suicidal? Or perhaps just pathetic?”  
His words are harsh, yet his voice is barely above a whisper. It sounds like he is truly puzzled and trying to make sense of things. I find his hand and stroke small patterns into his palm.  
“None of the above. I just love you,” I smile.  
Lennox closes his eyes, I sense more than feel the little shudder that passes through him, and he digs his nails into my palm. They leave half moon crescents that look so similar to the ones that already adorn my body. I squeeze his hand in turn.  
“No one has ever said that to me before. Love does not exist.”  
Lennox grinds it out, almost like he is trying to remind himself of it, and my heart shatters all over again.  
This, this pain and loneliness that surrounds him and chokes him, is what I am trying to prevent. This is what I am trying to keep him from.  
Enveloped by desperation and heartbreak, I move forward and crush my mouth against his. He tenses, hands coiled to shove me off, before changing his mind and letting me. His hands move to my hair, yank the pin holding it in place out hard enough to sting my eyes, and knot into the strands.  
I clench my fists around his coat, pull him close until it is physically painful, and bite down on his lip hard enough until I taste blood.  
We stay locked like that until our lungs burn. Finally, I move away from him. My gaze is burning with frustration and heart ache. I card my fingers through his hair, brush a flyaway strand from his cheek, and lean my forehead against his.  
“I love you,” I force it out with as much emotion as possible.  
Lennox closes his eyes, bruised mouth thinning, and another little shudder passes through him. His hands stay locked in my hair and he tugs on it as if to steady himself.  
“Say it again,” he orders.  
I do so.  
He says my name, repeats it like a prayer, then digs his nails into my scalp.  
“Again,” he orders.  
Smiling and brushing another light kiss against his lips, I comply.


	2. “I hate you.”

A kind of prologue to the first Lennox one I posted.  
Severe warnings for violence.  
——  
I was taken in the dark.  
The moon had just come out to grace the world with its presence, moonbeams peeking out shyly through the tree tops, and stars dazzling in the midnight sky like thousands of fluorescent lights, when I had decided to take a walk. I had strayed far from the base Reiner had set up, knew I should have turned back when the sounds of the soldiers had drifted distant in the breeze, yet had remained all the same.  
After being cooped up in a tent all day listening to battle plans that put me back in a boring history classroom in high school, a walk had seemed like the perfect solution.  
My plan had been to just walk through the small woods near the base and take in the night air. Perhaps I would have walked around the woods and observed the nightlife around me, so different from the one of Chicago’s clubs and buzzing bars, before turning back and going to bed content. I hadn’t really thought out my plan for the night-  
And had never had a chance to.  
As I had walked through the woods, a strong arm had been wrapped around me. Something cold had pressed to my throat and I was being yanked back.  
A voice I had only heard in the battlefield had pressed to my ears and had cut trough the tranquility the forest had provided.  
“Scream and I’ll kill you.”  
Five words that had changed my life forever. Fear had overtaken me, drowned me like a Hurricane, and I had been unable to speak.  
In the movies, the heroes free themselves from their assailant. They perform some karate moves that the average movie goer can only dream of.  
But this wasn’t a movie.  
Rather than fight, I had cowered. My body had locked up in shock and I had become easy prey. Lennox had kept the blade at my throat and ushered me away.  
I had held my breath, too fearful of the tight way the knife was pressing into my neck, and let him take me.  
With just a stupid walk, I had become a prisoner of war. 

From there, life had taken a downwards spiral.  
Time had drifted past the window of my cell. I had kept track with tally marks on the wall. The white scrapes against the rock had served as a calendar to remind me that my friends were coming soon.  
The Generals came to visit with every tally I drew. They interrogated me, tortured me, and almost killed me. Their treatments were inhumane, cruel, and made me wonder if survival was possible.  
At first, I endured.  
Whatever Lennox and the other Generals did to me, I held out. I wasn’t strong like my friends, their torture hurt me in ways that made me wish I was dead, but I kept my mouth shut. My silence, I had decided, would hold out even if my sanity gave up.  
However, after the tally marks on the wall became a mural of freedom lost and evaporating hope, I had begun to crack.  
It had been a month since I had been taken, yet Reiner had never arrived.  
Once, just once, I thought I had heard the sounds of August’s voice outside the dungeon I was being held in, swore I could taste the scent of Altea’s magic in the air, but nothing had ever come out of that. The feeling had passed like a storm cloud and my prison had remained.  
After that, my hope had fallen apart. I would never be rescued, I knew that deep within me, so I focused on saving myself.  
I hated the damsel in distress trope, so I decided to be my own hero. 

Three months into my kidnapping and I had been declared a dead end by the Generals. Magnus had deemed me useless, as I had not been around military strategy enough to help them, and had coldly suggested passing me on to one of his comrades as a gift.  
Like a hand-me-down, I had been passed off to my kidnapper.  
Lennox had won me like a prize. Since he had been the one to steal me away all those months ago, Magnus found it fitting for him to put up with me. I was taken into his possession immediately, and he made sure I knew I was nothing more than an animated trinket.  
My life was as insignificant as that of a scuttling insect on the ground. I was little more than a slave.  
Whatever order Lennox issued, I obeyed. Whatever he wished to do, I had to endure. Whatever he said, I had to agree to.  
My life was in his hands. He fancied himself a god because of this fact. His favorite little game was to frighten me. Several times he would corner me, threaten to kill me and go as far as to nearly make me black out with blood loss, before growing bored with me.  
I endured this.  
The thought that one day I would be free was what kept me growing. I was willing to put up with everything if it meant being able to escape. 

And that chance came soon.  
One evening, in the midst of cleaning Lennox’s room and ordering his documents, my opportunity had arisen like the rise of dawn.  
Lennox had been called away to an emergency meeting with the Generals, something about a cultist of his attacking Reiner’s soldiers and causing a skirmish, and he had flown out the door with an order to stay put. In his desperation to get to the meeting, he had forgotten to lock the door as he often did.  
I had waited in the room, hands knotted into my skirts, and had counted to a hundred. When his footsteps hadn’t sounded, when he hadn’t come back to right his mistake, I had leapt into action.  
I had flung myself out the door and ran as fast as possible. The palace wasn’t very populated or guarded, my freedom was relatively easy.  
I had bolted right out the palace and into the grounds. The sunlight had touched my skin for the first time in months and I had been determined to navigate my way back to the human domain.  
My hands had flown around me, my lungs had burned, and there had been a painful stitch at my side that threatened to interfere with my escape, but I had powered through.  
I had made it to the woods, found solace in the trees that promised a place to hide, before sinking to my knees in exhaustion.  
My breath had been caught in my throat and my hands had dug into my chest in an attempt to free it.  
After months of being a prisoner, I was free.  
Liberty had felt like nothing I had ever experienced. No one knows freedom until they’ve survived captivity. The feelings that had washed over me then had been as beautiful as the terra firma around me-  
And as short lived as its seasons.  
Loud voices had sounded all around me. Cultists had quickly been deployed to find me as soon as Lennox had remembered he had left the door open, and they had found me.  
I had tried to run then but my body was so tired. Despite the panic and adrenaline surging through me, arms had grabbed me and I had been unable to evade them.  
I had fought, clawed and resisted against the cultists, yet had been brought back all the same.  
Lennox had been waiting for me in his room when I arrived. His amber eyes were burning with a wrath I had never before seen, and his hands were holding a large knife.  
My voice had evaded me and left me just like my freedom and hope. I had, had nothing to defend myself as he had advanced on me. My screams had even been unreachable.  
He had cut me, nearly killed me, and torn me to shreds. My hands could only protect my head and neck from his assault. I had squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself to be somewhere else.  
Hours I had endured it. I had blacked out twice before he had roused me awake and continued his assault. Finally, when midnight had fallen over the castle like a cloak, he had stopped.  
I had thought his anger had subsided, as he looked neural and impassive, but had been wrong.  
He had forced me on the ground and hovered above me. His leg had pressed into mine until it hurt. He had grinned, a sadistic smile that had chilled me to my very core, and had said he knew a fitting punishment for my escape.  
“Jinhai often clips the wings of the birds that resist his powers. He keeps them at his side until they are willing to listen. I will clip your wings and you will learn to listen to me.”  
His words had barely registered in my mind before he had brought his leg down with full force.  
The first kick had bruised my knee, the second had drawn a tattered scream from my throat, but the third had shattered the bone.  
He had continued his assault until my leg was nothing but a fractured mess.  
The pain had been worse than the hour long torture. I had blacked out as soon as the bone had broken, fully expecting to never wake up again. 

I wasn’t so lucky.  
When I had come to, a potion was being spilled into my mouth. I nearly choked on it until his hands had yanked my hair back and I had been forced to drink it all.  
The cold and bitter taste of magic had washed over me and some of the pain in my leg had subsided. Asides from the pain, I had been unable to feel anything in it. The bone was damaged beyond repair.  
Tears had streamed down my face and I had squeezed my eyes shut. My hands had shaken as I had laid them against the cast he had wrapped around the knee. It was poorly made, and it served to render me immobilized more than it did to help me heal.  
The breaking of my leg had represented the breaking of my hope. My escape had faded in a plume of smoke and had left nothing but cold despair in its wake.  
Then and there, I had given up hope of ever escaping. My body had been wrought with sobs and pain. I had cried until there were no more tears.  
Lennox had let me. His eyes had regarded me with mild interest and no remorse. He had allowed me to mourn for my lost freedom before moving away from me.  
The potion he had fed me had gone back into his pocket and he had declared he could fix me. A broken bone was nothing a simple vial of magic couldn’t mend, my fracture was no exception, but he would not give it to me if I wasn’t willing to pledge loyalty.  
“Promise me you won’t escape again and it’s yours.” He had patted his pocket.  
At his words, I had quivered with rage and the aftermath of my broken psyche. **”I hate you!”**  
I had nothing to fling at him, nothing to hit him with, so I just assaulted him with my words. My rage had served as a weapon and I had screamed at him until I was sure my vocal cords would give out.  
Eventually, my tirade had crumbled and I had fallen apart a second time. The pain was returning full force and it threatened to kill me. I had never broken a bone before, but even I could tell this fracture was worse than a regular bone fracture. He had probably done something to it so that I would be forever unable to walk right without his proposition.  
In the midst of pain and heartache, I had drifted off to sleep. My hands had pressed to the cast on my knee in an attempt to shield it from another attack, and my head had lolled down. 

When I had awoken a second time, it was because Lennox was bringing me a meal. In my state, I couldn’t walk to the servant’s kitchen, so he had made it his mission to feed me.  
As he had shoved the food in my hands, he had clenched his jaw.  
“This is just so you won’t starve. I don’t want to lose my slave before I have a chance to replace you,” he had hissed.  
I had bitten back a retort, painfully aware that I was now completely at his mercy, and had settled for simply trying to eat. The problem was that he had set the utensils too far from me. I couldn’t reach them no matter how much I tried.  
After the fifth attempt, I had knocked the spoon to the ground. My teeth had closed around my cheek in frustration and I had just about decided to eat without a spoon-  
When Lennox had grumbled something about me being useless and had picked it up for me. I had reached for it in his grasp but he had moved it away. He had clicked his tongue, said he might as well treat me like the child I acted like, and had fed me himself.  
At first it had been mortifying to be fed by someone I hated so badly, but then I had begun to realize something.  
Lennox didn’t have to do this, yet he did. He could have left me starve, could have left me to fend for my own devices, but he was actively trying to keep me alive.  
The thought had brought a monsoon in my head. I had spent the last few months with only the desire of survival keeping me warm at night, yet here he was offering me that chance. If I let him, would he help me keep my life?  
The question had settled around me and had brought much mental debate.  
On one hand, Lennox was a monster that had broken me in more ways than one and reduced me to something that needed him to operate.  
On the other hand, he was also taking the time to nurse me back to health. My well-being was being considered in ways I had never felt before. If I let him, I could easily make a full recovery.  
The choice between the two was a hard struggle. 

As weeks trickled by, the choice persisted. It kept me up at night and chased me around in the morning.  
My leg still hadn’t healed, Lennox said it wouldn’t without the potion he had, and I was growing desperate.  
More than that, I was growing insane. Being cooped up in his room with nothing to do but elevate the cast was making me stir crazy. I wanted so badly to walk and move around, but my leg refused to cooperate.  
I wondered how I would endure more weeks of this. My sanity was as fragile as the bones in my leg, and I could feel it slip past my fingers. With every passing day, more of it crumbled and fell away.  
I tried to hold on to it, tried to reel it in and preserve it, yet it was moving too fast for me.  
My hope had left, my freedom had followed, and now my sanity was on its way too.  
I so was desperate for a lifeline, something to hold on to in order to keep myself from being lost to the madness encroaching my mind-  
That I snapped.  
In a bid to keep myself sane, I latched on to something that could steady me.  
Lennox.  
Ever since he had broken me, he had attempted to fix me. He feigned to do it because he wanted to keep me as a slave, but I could see the undercurrent beneath the surface.  
I saw the kindness in him for the first time. I saw it in the way he adjusted my blanket when he thought I was asleep, in the way he murmured a goodnight to me when he was going to bed, and in the way his eyes scanned my leg with something resembling regret.  
I saw the heart that dwelt within the walls he erected around himself, and I reached out to it in an attempt to preserve myself. 

So, after half a year of captivity, I let go.  
I let the last of my old self fall apart, tore everything that was me into tatters, and crafted a new fate.  
I dropped my inhibitions and was prepared to unite myself with my savior.  
When Lennox awoke that morning and got ready to dress, I snagged his arm. He tensed at the contact, blinked down at me still half asleep, and asked me what I wanted.  
I took a deep breath, felt the last of my reservations melt away, and intertwined our fingers together.  
When I next spoke, my words came out steady.  
“I pledge my loyalty to you. I won’t run anymore. Make me yours.”


	3. “Come cuddle.”

Still continuing off the same plot line my other Lennox’s prompts have been in.  
——  
The candles in the room are burning low when I awake. The night sky is painting its vivid picture out the window and a light breeze is stirring through the room. Night is enveloping the castle like a mantle and all is silent-  
Except for the scratching of quill on paper.  
In my half asleep state, I frown and strain to listen to the sound around me. I can hear the distinct sounds of someone writing things down and quill being dipped into ink every few moments.  
Slowly, consciousness dawns on me. I roll slowly on the bed and peer at the direction of the noise.  
Just as I suspected, Lennox is busy at work. It can’t be more than two in the morning yet he is already devising the speech he will recite to his church in the morning. Every morning before mass, he writes out his sermon to the smallest detail and stays up all night.  
I sigh.  
Last night I had attempted to distract him. I had tried to wear him out so that he would get his rest, yet there he is decked out on his desk. Despite tiring himself out, his dedication to preaching remains strong.  
I sit up in bed and run a hand through my hair.  
“Are you really working right now?”  
My voice comes out groggy from sleep. It cuts through the night quiet and Lennox’s hand stills. He looks up from his speech, sees me awake, then dismisses me with a click of his tongue.  
“I have to finish this sermon,” he replies. He dips the quill in ink again and continues his scribbling.  
I glance out the window and see no traces of the sun in the horizon. It is truly, truly early. I’m not a morning person at all, and Lennox needs his rest.  
“You need sleep, Len,” I murmur. My chin goes to my hand and I force my eyes open.  
Lennox huffs at the nickname, sends me a piercing glare, and continues writing.  
I close my eyes, tell myself I’ll open them in a moment, then shake myself awake at the realization that I will sleep if I gamble that. It’s not fair for me to go to sleep while he continues to work. Lennox often stays up late to finish up his sermons or patrol around the castle when Magnus orders it. His sleep schedule is messed up enough as it is, and I don’t often help with it. In fact, I keep him up most nights and exhaust him.  
Stretching in my place, I decide to try a different approach. Slowly, I wrap a blanket tightly around me and wince at the movement. My entire body is sore from sleep and last night’s previous workout. Lennox hadn’t really been gentle.  
My feet pad on the floorboards and I manage to sneak up behind him. His back is hunched over the desk and his hand is moving at impossible speeds. Swirls and loops paint the paper in incredibly beautiful, if messy, calligraphy. I can’t read what he is writing, his handwriting is an enigma to everyone but himself, yet I know it will be striking.  
Lennox has an incredible way with words. He can twist and bend them to his will, turn them into a canvas to portray whatever he wishes, and force obedience. I’ve seen him in action, felt the power beneath his voice, and heard it in my ear often enough. He is incredibly adept-  
Yet I doubt he’ll be able to come up with something tonight mid-exhaustion.  
Already, he has crossed out several phrases and scribbled on top of paragraphs. He is too tired to come up with some of his lovely sonnets. I need to get him to bed.  
My hands wrap loosely around his torso and I place my chin on his shoulder. He jolts, glares at me from the corner of his eye, and pointedly ignores me.  
I bite my cheek. “When was the last time you slept?”  
My fingers go for the skin under his eyes. Even in the weak candlelight, I can see something dark beneath them. He is truly tired, yet he won’t let himself rest. Lennox hates leaving things up to fate, and he prefers to finish everything as soon as he can. It’s a stark contrast against my procrastinating nature.  
He bats my hand away with the quill, spills dots of ink on my skin, and scowls. “Enough. I’m working. Go back to bed.”  
It’s a command, an order, and one that often works. As his former slave, it’s often put me in my place and let me know that my presence is no longer wanted. Tonight, however, I pointedly ignore it.  
There’s an exhaustion to his voice, a deep tiredness that mirrors my own, and I want him to rest. Tomorrow he’ll have to deliver a long sermon for his congregation then will go on patrol right after. He won’t rest and I want some of the tension to leave his shoulders. Sleep is a reprieve I want him to have. I’m not budging in this.  
Rather than obey, I lean away from him and place my hands on his shoulders. My fingers move at the muscles there and I feel how tense they are. I’m not the best masseuse in the world, but I know the things Lennox’s body enjoys.  
His back is a mess of tension and knots. I can feel just how frustrated and exhausted he has been these past few days. Ever since he had that argument with Helena and almost got hexed, he’s been on edge.  
Lennox is easily one of the more troublesome Generals. His rage knows no bounds and he often loses his temper and acts rashly. I’ve felt the ire of it before, felt it when he shattered my leg a year ago, and have seen it play out in front of others. Despite my best attempts, it still peeks out and puts him in stressful positions. I have to be the one to soothe him afterwords. Like now.  
My fingers continue to work at his tired muscles and a sound leaves his lips. He tenses under my touch, presses his lips thin, and says nothing to scold me.  
Still, however, he continues to work. I press my own lips together in frustration.  
“You need your rest,” I murmur. My lips brush against his cheek and I close my eyes.  
He leans away from me, familiar glare marring his features, and clenches his jaw. “And you need to notice when you are being a nuisance.”  
His words are biting and harsh, yet I let them bounce off harmlessly. I’ve long since grown used to his cruel words. You can’t spend every waking moment with him without building up an immunity for it.  
I don’t move from my place behind him. Instead, my fingers move from his back to the hand holding the quill. It stills at my touch mid sentence.  
Lennox glances at me, waiting for me to make a move so he can find a reason to yell at me, yet I move closer. My hands trace swirls across his own and my lips brush against his neck.  
“You’re tired,” I mumble.  
It’s an observation not a question. I can tell he is tired from the way his back is tense and his eyes are blinking in the low light as if to stay awake. I’ve learned to read the little cues by now.  
“So are you,” Lennox answers back. He moves his hand away from my grip and moves to dip it in ink again. I move my palm and put it over the bottle just in time. The quill pricks at my skin and draws blood. I hardly notice.  
“Come to bed,” I plead. I move my lips up to his jaw and press a kiss there.  
He tenses, shudders at the contact, and drops the quill on his desk. His hands move to his nose and he pinches the bridge of it. Another silent cue that he is sleepy and stressed.  
I want to badly get rid of his burden. He works so often and so hard, I want him to relax. My face presses against the side of his neck and I breathe in his scent. He smells like some expensive cologne I can’t put my finger on and sweat. A unique combination that I’ve learned to associate with home.  
My fingers move down to his back again and I resume my movements. This time, there’s less resistance on his part. He closes his eyes and lets me work at his back. He enjoys my touch despite the front he puts on.  
I watch his face as I work. When anger is not twisting his features into something terrifying, he is actually incredibly handsome. There’s a charm to him that draws me in. The square of his jaw, the amber of his eyes, and the softness of the bangs that sometimes fall across his forehead conveys incredible good looks.  
I smile.  
Once, I hated him. Everything about him used to repulse me, make me afraid, disgust me, but now I am willing to die for him. Since he took me from my life before, I’ve seen the good in him. The world either knows him as a terrible servant to a villain or a powerful preacher akin to a god, but I see him for what he is.  
I see him as the human being that surrounds himself by thick walls of ice and simmers beneath his rage because his loneliness is too suffocating to delve into. The human being that desires companionship because he is as starved for human contact as anyone else. The human being that works himself to the point of exhaustion because he seeks to raise himself above the caste the world thrust him into.  
I see him and love him for what he is.  
My hands still and I wrap them around his shoulders in an embrace. My forehead presses to the side of his face and I brush my lips against the corner of his mouth. He makes a sound at the back of his throat, something akin to a sigh, and I smile.  
“ _ **Come cuddle**_ ,” I whisper.  
He huffs at me, sends me a glare as freezing as the cold air outside, but doesn’t shove me off. This is a good sign. Lennox pushes me away when I’ve tired him out, but he lets me stay when my persuasion is working.  
Perhaps tonight I’ll be fortunate.  
“You are a child,” he complains. He closes his eyes and pretends to be off put by the suggestion. Still, his hands remain on mine and he almost presses closer.  
He is starved for human contact. I know this well. I feel it in the way he shudders when I touch him, taste it in the way his kiss delves into something desperate and possessive, and hear it in the way he groans when driven to the edge. He wants companionship as much as anyone else, and I am intent on providing it for him.  
“Come,” I reply. My hands move to his and I tug on them lightly.  
I expect him to shove me off, hurl another insult at my clinginess and blah, blah, blah, but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps quiet and almost leans in. I realize he is more tired than I realized.  
Another light tug on his hands. “Come on, please?”  
Silence. Lennox glances at me, meets my gaze with annoyance and some other emotion I can’t place, then sighs. “You are annoying.”  
He frees his hands from my grip yet stands all the same. I resist the urge to let out a triumphant laugh. His fingers press to his eyes and he moves to the bed.  
I follow after him, adjust the blanket around me, and join him under the covers. He slips out of his shirt, tosses it somewhere, and buries himself in the sheets. I edge closer to him so that I am tucked into his side. When he feels me close, his hands go for my waist and he wraps a possessive arm around me.  
I lean my body into his touch. His fingers move to my neck and they brush at the skin. There is a mess of scars on the skin there. Since my time with him, he has left a path of knife cuts and teeth marks in that area. Sometimes the flesh there aches and I find it hard to breathe, yet his touch feels pleasant all the same.  
I’ve grown to accept the pain he inflicts on me, grown to accept the way he takes out his anger on me, and grown to accept the way he threatens to get rid of me when I disobey.  
Occasionally, I’ll get little flashes of something. Occasionally, I’ll get nightmares of a man with mismatched eyes and a lovely smile who promises to love me forever and save me. Occasionally, I’ll get an overwhelming urge that something is wrong and I need to get as far away from Lennox as possible. Occasionally I’ll have episodes where I can’t breathe and Lennox’s touch is like poison to me, but then Lennox is there to bring me back. He whispers words into my ear, commands me to return to him and forget whatever treachery is swirling around my mind, and graces me with his touch that draws me back to reality.  
I’ve learned to love him and desire him. I’ve learned it until it comes second nature to me. Almost like breathing and blinking.  
I turn so that I face him and he flutters his eyes close. His hands move lower on my waist and he draws me closer. I’m pressed against his chest where his heartbeat pulses underneath my touch.  
I close my own eyes, delight in the fact that him touching me in a way that isn’t sexual or painful is a rare treat, and pay close attention to the thumping of his pulse.  
The room goes quiet then and only the sounds of the breeze from outside grace us. Soon, I hear the silent breath leaving his lips and feel the soft rise and fall of his chest in slumber.  
I smile softly, pleased that he is finally resting after so long, and brush my lips above his heart before closing my own eyes.  
As I drift off into sleep, I feel that familiar prickle in me. It is a sense that something is wrong, that I should run from Lennox and flee towards a man with different colored eyes that once meant the world to me and more, yet I shove this down.  
Sleeping here, in Lennox’s arms, is now my purpose. I’ve grown to love him, forced it upon myself, and have seen the good in him. I will not listen to that little nagging voice.  
I know my place in life and it is at Lennox’s side.


	4. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

It’s a nice day outside. The sun streams through puffy clouds and a nice breeze rustles our clothing. Small butterflies flutter past our little clearing and birds sing nearby. Truly, we couldn’t have picked a better outing.   
I spread out the blanket for the picnic for us and smile up at Lennox.   
“Today is a great day for a picnic, yeah?”  
I hold out my arm to embrace him, but Lennox makes a face and sidesteps me. He grumbles something under his breath about the pollen in the air and his sinuses before taking the basket from me.   
“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” he mutters. He rips open the picnic basket and fishes around until he finds the bottle of wine he had stashed inside it.   
I plop down on the picnic blanket and press my hands to my knees. The breeze feels truly great. After being locked up in a castle for months on end, I enjoy every little outing we can get.   
“The sun is good for you, Len, you need Vitamin D every once in a while.”   
I reach out my fingers and stroke at his jawline. He moves his head back, sends me a glare capable of freezing over deserts, and uncorks the wine bottle.   
“This is ridiculous. One hour, one, and then we go back. I have a meeting with General Richter this afternoon about troop movements,” Lennox mutters. He puts the bottle to his lips and tilts his head back.   
I hum and stare up at the sunny sky. There hasn’t been a day this beautiful since the day I was taken. That day had been as lovely as this one.   
I smile to myself. It had been a terrible chore to convince Lennox to come with me on this day out. Every time I insisted on us going somewhere that wasn’t his church or his room, he shot me down. For weeks I had insisted on a simple outing to either the town adjacent to the palace or the fields by the river, and for weeks he had threatened to tear out my vocal chords if I didn’t leave him be. Finally, I had wore him out. He had agreed to ‘go through with my stupid idea’ if only I promised to keep my mouth shut from now on and leave him be.   
“You have to admit you enjoy this, Len. It’s a beautiful day,” I grin. I reach out my finger to a passing butterfly. It lands on it briefly before flying away. I giggle.   
Lennox scoffs into the wine bottle and says nothing. He looks away from me and adamantly refuses to acknowledge my presence.   
Typical.   
I don’t let this bother me. Instead, I move myself so that I am settled up next to him and put my head on his shoulder. The familiar scent of expensive cologne and blood greets me. I smile softly and let it envelop me. After so long, it smells like home.   
“Do you know why I wanted to come here?” I murmur. My fingers reach out for his hand on the wine bottle. He lets me take his hand and passes the beverage to his other one.   
“Because you are immature and enjoy annoying me?” Lennox guesses.   
I stick my tongue out at him playfully. He makes a face and mumbles ‘such a child’ underneath his breath.   
“No,” I hum, “because today it’s been three years.”  
Silence.   
Lennox glances at me out of the corner of his eye before doing the mental calculation. I can practically see him running through the numbers in his head. I trace a pattern on his knuckle.   
Today has marked three years of being together. Three years ago, he snatched me from my old life and made me a new one. For three years, I’ve been at his side and have served him as lover and servant.   
“I lost count,” Lennox admits after a lasting quiet, “So I have suffered through your idiocy for three summers.”  
I make a sound at the back of my throat at his words and move my head. From my place, I can see something in his eyes. For all his cold words, his gaze on me is somehow softer. It seems like he has realized the importance of today.   
I lean close and press a featherlight kiss to his cheek. As always, he tenses before making a sound of disgust and moving away. I don’t let this bother me. Instead, I move and press another one to his jaw.   
“I’m glad for these three years, you know, I enjoy being at your side,” I whisper.   
Lennox grunts underneath his breath but doesn’t comment on it. I move my head and nod at the landscape before us.   
The clearing has several wildflowers up ahead and I can hear a rushing stream from nearby. It is a truly romantic setting.   
“Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy being with me,” I tease.   
I grin at him and watch a passing yellow butterfly. It floats around us almost as if framing us for a beautiful portrait. I trace its path with my finger but it refuses to land there. Instead, it stretches its beautiful wings and enjoys its freedom. The little insect flies around with joy and hope and brilliance. I’m almost envious of It’s carefree nature.   
“See? The butterflies are out,” I chirp.   
My fingers reach out for the yellow one and I almost manage to trap it in my hands but it flits past my grip.   
“When I was a kid,” Lennox begins, “My mother had a plant in her garden. The butterflies loved gathering there. I used to play there and catch them. I liked snagging them by their wings and letting them fly in my hands. My mother would get angry at me. She said I was hurting them.”  
The confession is so surprising that I abandon trying to catch my winged companion. My eyebrow raises up and I press my hand to my chin. Lennox doesn’t often comment about his childhood. His past is locked with a thick key and padlock, so any little comment he throws my way is greatly appreciated.   
I edge closer. “Did you know it hurt them?”  
Lennox observes the butterfly fluttering past him. “No. I just wanted to see their beauty. I did not own much growing up, no toys, no friends, nothing. What little I could call mine was treasured. Butterflies were lovely and they swarmed my home. I often trapped them because I wanted to observe them. I never meant to hurt them. They are fragile things.”  
I feel a smidge of sympathy at his words. I reach out and hold his hand in mine.   
“Did you stop afterwords then? If you knew you were hurting them?”  
I move my head to his shoulder again. Sensing my plan, Lennox moves his arm before I can. He sends me a warning look before scoffing.   
“No. I thought it was annoying that they could not take something as simple as me catching them. They were weak and just another thing to reject me. I stopped catching them because I grew disgusted with them.”  
His voice is venomous and harsh. I wince and bite my lip.   
He has so much pain in him. His loneliness buzzes underneath his skin and torments him. I’ve tried to take some of the burden off his shoulders but have only partly succeeded.   
While I have noticed a change in him, his gaze has softened when he looks at me and he’s grown less cruel with his cult when I’m around, he still carries a lot of torment. I only wish I was enough to fully liberate him.   
I kiss his jaw and nod at the yellow butterfly from before. It twirls around in the air before moving for us. I reach out to catch it again but it averts my grasp and settles for Lennox instead. It lands on his nose and perches there.   
I laugh and wish I had brought a camera from Chicago. It’s such a cute sight to see Lennox’s startled face and blush as the butterfly stares up at him that I would have loved to capture it.   
“It looks like they weren’t all rejecting you, Len. Maybe you just needed to hold out for a butterfly that wanted to be at your side.”  
I reach out my finger to stroke the butterfly-  
But Lennox moves in a flash.   
Before I can register what is happening, his hand closes around the butterfly and he crushes it in his fingers. I gasp as he lets the tiny corpse fall away from us. He makes a sound of disgust and wipes his fingers against the picnic blanket.   
“Disgusting insect,” he grumbles.   
I stare at him in utter shock. When what he has done finally dawns on me, I shudder. A tiny part of me is scared by his actions although I do not know why.   
I swallow. “You killed it.”  
“Brilliant observation, Hannah, you are truly a great scholar,” Lennox’s voice drips with sarcasm. He glares at me and takes another swig of the wine bottle.   
I blink, bite my cheek, and reel in my emotions. Once I’ve gotten them under control, I shake my head and push the thoughts of the tiny mangled corpse away. Instead, I reach out and pull out a small sandwich from the picnic basket.   
I unwrap it slowly and break it in half. Passing over a half to Lennox, I hum. “You like these don’t you?”  
“They are edible,” Lennox answers back. He takes a bite out of his and chews slowly. His gaze scans around the clearing in thought.   
I stare at my half and pull out the lettuce and tomatoes.   
“I tried to make your favorites today. A thank you for this,” I raise up my right ring finger.   
A tiny gold ring with a salt water pearl rests there. It had been Lennox’s gift last week. He had surprised me with it after he had left a particularly bad bruise on the corner of my mouth in a fit of rage.   
Lennox glances at the band and makes a sound at the back of his throat to feign listening. I press on and reach out for his own right hand. A gold band rests there too with my initial engraved in it. He had purchased it with my ring.   
They weren’t wedding rings, Lennox didn’t believe in marriage and often called it a sham devised by merchants to sell foolish couples wedding dresses, but they might as well be. We had already been together for three years and I was at his side constantly-the only woman to have that honor. I was his and he was mine. In the eyes of his congregation, we were already wed.   
I trace the band on his finger and smile at him. “Really, Len, thank you. You didn’t have to.”  
He shrugs but says nothing. Perhaps it is my imagination but I see a flush of color to his cheeks.   
I laugh lightly to myself and wrap an arm around his frame. My lips move forward and I kiss the corner of his mouth. He tenses, hands move to push me off, but changes his mind at the last moment.   
His face moves closer and he kisses me in turn. I can taste the wine and sandwich on his breath. My hand goes for his hair and I twirl the strands in between my fingertips.   
After a few moments, he withdraws but doesn’t move entirely out of my grasp. Instead, his hands move to my waist and his forehead presses against mine. Amber eyes close shut and he shudders against me.   
I can feel the war of emotions simmering in him. He is no longer the terrifying and cruel General he once was. Now, his rage is manageable, his actions are more calculated, and, most importantly, his loneliness is subsiding with every second I am at his side. I have been a positive influence in him and might just be able to change him.   
Perhaps in due time I will be able to fully erase the emotional burden he carries with him.   
I press a kiss to his nose and nip the skin there. He makes a sound at the back of his throat, something akin to an annoyed grunt, but doesn’t move.   
I move for his mouth again and kiss him. This kiss is brief and light. He leans into it and moves one hand to my hair while the other pushes my waist closer to him.   
I close my eyes and feel his breath at my lips. One of my hands knot into his hair while the other moves to his coat. Today he has abandoned his usual coat and dons a different one, a simple, teal overcoat worth more than anything in the Capital’s treasury. I work at undoing the pearl buttons on it and he moves his hand to my dress.   
My breath hitches as he goes to the lace at the back of it. When his fingers begin to work at its ties, entirely practiced from all the times he has done it before, I shiver.   
“I love you.” The words leave my lips in a tiny pant enriched with emotion and desire.   
Lennox flinches and stills. He keeps his eyes closed but a crease appears on his brow.   
“Love is a fable,” he replies.   
I shake my head and manage to undo his jacket. It slips from his shoulders to reveal a silk cravat and thin blue shirt.   
“It’s not. I really do love you,” I whisper. I stroke his cheek with one hand and brush another kiss against his lips.   
He kisses back before withdrawing. His eyes open and he stares at me. There’s ice in his eyes, cruelty that shines through in every gaze, but there’s also something impossibly soft there. An emotion I haven’t seen before is appearing in his gaze. It mirrors my own and sends waves of warmth through me.   
Perhaps it is just my imagination, perhaps it is just my hope, but it seems like love.   
My breath hitches as Lennox moves to my jaw. He bites at the skin there, sharp enough to hurt, then soothes the area with his tongue. I close my eyes and dig my nails into the expensive fabric of his shirt.   
“How many times have you said that before? To how many men have you said those same words?” Lennox asks.   
His voice cuts me out of my thoughts and I blink up at him. His fingers have stilled on my dress and his face is flushed. There’s desire emanating off of him along with something much more personal and kind. Affection.   
I reach out my hand and place it at his cheek. He tenses at the touch but doesn’t shove me away. That is a good sign.   
“Once. Once before,” I reply. I close my eyes and lean forward. A flash of something tickles at my memory. I remember a man with mismatched eyes who had repeated that same phrase to me eons ago, a man who had promised to make me happy, someone who had meant the world to me. His memory shines in my mind for half a second before it disappears like a wisp of smoke. I shake my head to clear it and return to Lennox. “But you’re the only time I’ve meant it.”  
He digests this information, takes it in stride, and moves forward. His hand goes for my hair and he rips the hairpin in it out. He tosses it somewhere and crashes my mouth against his.   
I let out a squeak as I am pressed to him. He kisses me like he needs it to survive and leans over me. His hands pull at my dress and my shoulder is bared. I feel the warm breeze at my skin.   
A flush spreads across my face and I make a sound as his mouth moves to the exposed skin.   
While it isn’t the first time he has taken me outdoors, this time feels different. His movements aren’t simply carnal and fraught with possession like so many other times. This time, there is something much more caring about it-more personal. Even the harsh bites he levies against my skin have an undercurrent of something more precious.   
He lifts his head and kisses me again. It’s a soft kiss unlike anything he has ever given me before. His eyes drift closed and he takes a deep breath.   
“If you ever tell anyone I said this, I will rip your tongue out and make you eat it,” he warns. My breath hitches yet he presses on, “but I enjoy having you at my side.”  
He goes to kiss me again and I meet him halfway. Excitement goes through me and I wrap my arms around his neck. “Does that mean…?”   
I drift off unable to finish my sentence. Lennox blushes, dark red painting his skin, and moves out of my embrace. His fingers go for my arm and he twirls the ring around my finger idly.   
“Yeah, yeah, it means I love you,” he grumbles. When a smile spreads across my face, his jaw clenches. “If you ever tell anyone I said that, I will rip your throat out.”  
I shake my head, ignore the bite in his words, and lean forward. He closes his eyes to kiss me again-  
And then something flies between us.   
A scream leaves my throat and Lennox jolts back. His hands are at his pockets in a flash and he pulls out his knives. I stand up, fix the strings of my dress, and cower at his side.   
A mixture of voices surrounds us. People who I don’t know yet somehow recognize emerge from the clearing. There’s three of them. A woman with light pink hair and a staff at her side, an elf with flowing hair and a bow poised towards us-  
And a man with mismatched eyes who sends a powerful emotion careening towards me.   
Our gazes meet and my knees almost buckle underneath me. I don’t remember him, not really, but something powerful in me lights up at his gaze.   
I open my mouth to ask him his name, needing to know it just to understand why he has an effect on me, when Lennox seizes me. His hand grabs my wrist and he yanks me behind him. A murderous glint is in his eyes and he sends a knife flying in the stranger’s direction.   
A flash of magic sends the knife flying away from its target and the girl slams her staff on the ground. Her eyes meet mine and there is utter relief in her gaze.   
“Hannah!” My name spills from her lips and she almost runs at me but holds herself back. The elf at her side sees me and similar relief floods his features as well. I see my own name slip past his lips in something akin to a prayer.   
I cower and press against Lennox’s back. Confusion overwhelms me and I shiver. “What’s happening?”  
Lennox opens his mouth to say something but never gets a chance to finish. The stranger with the mismatched eyes dives for him and he is ripped from my side. The man’s hands lock against his throat and Lennox is unable to fight him off.   
I scream and make a move to run towards him. I have no strength but maybe I can pull the stranger off and give Lennox time to run-  
Something flies past blocking my view. An arrow, similar to the one that had interrupted us before, flits past me and is lost somewhere in the clearing. I freeze.   
The girl from before moves towards me. Her hand reached out as if to touch me.   
“Hannah! It is you! It’s been three years,” she pants it out. Her eyes are wide with relief and guilt and something caring.   
I flinch from her and back away. “Who are you?!”  
My scream sounds unhinged and I dive for Lennox’s discarded coat. I yank out one of his knives and hold it aloft in front of me as a feeble attempt to ward her off.   
The girl skids to a stop as her elven companion knocks an arrow and aims at it me. He looks similarly startled.   
“Hannah? It’s us,” he replies.   
The girl moves forward another step and I back away. The knife in my hand shakes. I’m scared, I don’t know them-  
And yet I feel something. There’s something in me that is screaming. Red alarms flash in my mind and I feel lightheaded. I don’t know these assailants, yet I do know them.   
The girl reaches out her hand towards the knife.   
“What did he do to you, Hannah?” Her voice sounds tiny, shocked, and her eyes scan me quickly. I wonder what she sees. Does she see the confusion and panic on my face, or does she see the scars and bruises across my body?  
I take a step back and a scream makes me turn. The fight between Lennox and the third stranger is still raging. The other two distracted me from it.   
Lennox has been able to free himself and there is a bad bruise forming on his neck. He gasps for air, coughs, and coils his body for an attack. His blades are clenched in his hands tightly. He glares at his enemy with extreme rage and hatred.   
His opponent meets his gaze with his own hard stare. His mismatched eyes blaze with fury, something much more terrifying than Lennox’s own anger, and his hands are almost surrounded by flame.   
He’s screaming something at Lennox, biting it through clenched teeth, but I can only make out brief snippets of it.   
“…took her from me…kill you…you hurt her…I loved her…”  
His voice sends a powerful pain in my skull and I cry out. My hand presses to my temple and the knife shakes in my grasp.   
The girl’s voice brings me back. She is close to me now, almost at me, and her elven companion is inching forward behind her. Her hands are in front of her to show me that she is unarmed and her gaze is soft and almost frightened.   
Not of me, I realize, but for me.   
“Hannah, it’s okay. I’m Altea. We were friends before. Please tell me you remember me.”   
She reaches out for me and I move back.   
“I don’t know you! Stay away!” I swipe at her with the knife and she steps back. Her companion lifts his bow in warning. Still, I don’t miss the way his gaze is pitying and pleading when he regards me.   
I risk a glance at the fight next to us and see that Lennox is losing. He throws blades at a mad speed, but his opponent somehow dodges each one. He rushes at Lennox in turn and lands good blows on his face. I wince at a particular bad one on his jaw.   
I move to help him when I see Lennox grope blindly at his vest. His daggers are gone and none are within reach. He turns pale and realizes he won’t win this fight.   
I whisper his name underneath my breath, shake in fear for him, and grit my teeth.   
The stranger moves forward and wraps his hands around Lennox’s throat. Lennox resists weakly but his grip won’t budge. He gropes at the stranger’s hand in panic.   
I see the way his lips turn blue, skin goes white-  
And I panic.   
“Let him go!” My scream cuts through the clearing.   
I raise the knife in my hand and press it to my own throat. Either the stranger lets Lennox go or I die with him. Either way, I refuse to leave him.   
The girl screams and the elf turns pale. I press the blade deeper into my throat until I feel something warm trickle down.   
The elf moves forward, hands shaking. “Hannah! Don’t!”  
His friend turns white and screams. Her own hands are shaking. She looks at her third companion who continues to strangle Lennox all the while staring at me in shock.   
“Saerys! She doesn’t remember us. Let him go, she’s going to hurt herself!”  
The stranger, Saerys?, refuses to budge.   
I refuse to back down too. I press the blade in deeper so that the tiny trickle turns into a gush. The blood nearly makes me black out. I feel lightheaded.   
I raise my eyes and my gaze meets Lennox. He’s given up on resisting and is instead glaring at me. He mouths ‘put it down’ over and over again and gives me a stare with something akin to panic.   
The thought that he worries about me gives me greater strength. I move to slit my throat-  
And the stranger panics.   
He tosses Lennox aside and dives for me. His speed is quicker than any human as he arrives at me and rips the blade from my grasp.   
I scream as he wraps his arms around me and crushes me against his frame. He’s shaking as he holds me, lips moving in tangent with panicked phrases, yet I tune him out.   
My gaze meets Lennox who is on the ground and wheezing for breath. He recovers just as an arrow narrowly misses him. He staggers to his feet and begins to skirt for the edge of the clearing.   
The stranger holding me presses a hand to my bleeding neck and regards him with scorching hatred.   
“I will kill you, Lennox Arnold! You did something to her and I will undo it. She is finally free from you!”  
I open my mouth to beg him to let me and Lennox go, but Lennox beats me to it. He ignores the stranger’s taunts and simply meets my gaze. He raises his hand so that his gold band shines in the sunlight.   
“It is alright, love, I will come back for you. You are mine.” He gives me a gaze full of meaning and then spins around and disappears into the tall grass.   
The elf gives chase and the girl sends flying spells at his wake but I know they won’t find him.   
Lennox’s promise rings in my ear and I struggle against the stranger holding me. Tears stream down my face and I beat against his chest. The stranger is shaking as he holds me and he makes no move to stop my assault. His eyes are scanning me with powerful emotions I can’t comprehend.   
“Who are you?”  
I beat against his chest and the tears come faster.   
His gaze, his scent, his voice, there’s something incredibly familiar about him. Something tells me that I know him, yet I can’t remember. It’s confusing and overwhelming. I feel like throwing up.   
The stranger takes me into his arms and kisses me. I make a startled sound and try to fight him off.   
The kiss isn’t like the ones I’ve shared with Lennox. There’s no possession or hint of a bite. Instead, this kiss is much more powerful and emotional. I can feel the stranger’s love in it as well as his immense relief.   
It makes my head spin and I go slack in his arms. My tears come faster now and I give up my fight. I let the stranger embrace me and press his mouth to my ear. He’s rambling something under his breath in an attempt to soothe me.   
“ **I won’t let anyone hurt you**. You’re safe with me.I finally found you. He can’t hurt you anymore.”  
His rambling delves into another language and I block him out. I shake in his arms and peer over his shoulder at where Lennox ran off and the other two followed.   
My fingers twirl the ring on my hand and I begin to cry again.   
I have no idea what is happening, have no idea who this stranger is, but something in me is awakening from a three year long slumber. It washes over me like a tsunami and almost drowns me.   
For the first time in three years, I feel something akin to freedom. It is such an intoxicating emotion that I freeze in place and say nothing as the stranger goes to kiss me again. Instead, I stand there and simmer under my growing inner war.   
The fight between wanting to follow Lennox and retake his side-  
And finally freeing myself from his grasp.


	5. “Who hurt you?” / “You haven’t lost me.”

“Must she be locked up like a common criminal?”  
The question is flung in an accusatory tone. I recognize the voice as Saerys’ but have no way of knowing who he is talking to. From my cell, only the hints of Altea’s skirt can be seen.   
I bite the inside of my cheek and pace from side to side. This isn’t my first time in a cell, Lennox liked to keep me in one when I refused to listen, but it feels different now. This cell is much worse than the one in the castle simply because I know Lennox won’t arrive at midnight with a change of heart and let me out.   
I grind my teeth and strain to hear the conversation outside. The Retainers and the false Lord argue in hushed tones. My arrival prompted an emergency meeting, and my inability to recognize any of them brought my imprisonment.   
Altea’s voice can be heard now, somber and pained, and I can make out the tapping of her staff against the stone floor.   
“I understand your fears, Lord Reiner, but Hannah is our friend. We know her. The Generals did something to her mind but she’s still the same person. Let Saerys talk to her, maybe he can get her to see reason?”  
A hush, the tapping of the staff continues, and a ragged breath. A voice I can’t place yet recognize sounds out after a pause.  
“She doesn’t remember any of us. Her mind is in the Witch Queen’s castle and her loyalties lie elsewhere. Iseul said she did not seem bothered by Lennox’s company and tried to barter her life for his release. It brings me no pleasure to see her behind bars, but her mind is in a state of confusion. Please, understand that this isn’t easy.”  
Silence falls once more. My pacing increases and I twist the ring on my finger over and over again.   
Lennox disappeared after I was captured. He promised to come back, but how long will that take? How long must I endure this prison with these foreign people that aren’t so foreign?  
I sink to my knees on the dungeon floors and bite my lower lip. The conversation outside continues. The voices are hushed this time and I am too far to hear what they are saying. I settle for pressing my hands to my face instead and practicing my breathing.   
Lennox will come for me. He promised he would and he doesn’t break his promises-  
At least not when he makes them uncoerced. When he swears things voluntarily, he stays true to his word.   
I pinch the bridge of my nose, anxiety welling up within me, and close my eyes.   
The conversation outside dissipates, footsteps sounding further away, and I wonder briefly what the verdict is.   
Will they kill me now? Or will they use me as a bargaining chip against Lennox? The last one hurts a little more.   
I am so deep in my own thoughts that I don’t realize someone is approaching my cell. I jolt when I see someone arrive before me. Saerys.   
He stands before the cell and places his hand against the bars. I can’t see his eyes very well in the dim lighting but I can imagine the anxiety on his features based on his tense stance.  
“Hannah,” he breathes out. My name falls from his lips like a hushed prayer and he leans forward until his face is pressed against the bars. His hand reaches for me and I move back.   
“Get away from me,” I hiss. I wrap my arms around my throat where a bandage lies. Despite the false Lord’s magic, the wound hasn’t closed completely. If he gets too close, I can easily open it back up again with my nails. My threat must be obvious because Saerys drops his hand back against his side. He tenses against the bars, fingers turning white from the strain, and closes his eyes.   
The only sound is that of our breathing. Mine is hesitant, quiet, and his is ragged and anxious. Something is eating away at him, tearing him apart, yet I can’t tell what. Were he Lennox, I’d be afraid of his thoughts, but he is a stranger and I do not know what to feel.   
Slowly, so slowly, he stands up and folds his hands behind his back. A mask falls across his face, something thin and transparent that almost cracks when he speaks, and he raises his voice just above a whisper.   
“Do you know who I am?”  
The question sends a prickle through me. His words, pained and broken, send a wave of something at me. I feel an ache somewhere within me yet I push it back. Pushing back what I remember has become second nature to me by now.   
I press myself against the back of my cell, the very furthest I can get, and dig my nails into the stone wall to steady myself.   
“No,” I answer. It is only half a lie. I know his name, Saerys, but I don’t know him. He’s familiar, something about him calls to me and makes my head spin, but I can’t place it.   
Saerys winces and grinds his teeth. I hear the sound from my place and resist the urge to flinch.   
“What do you remember?” Saerys closes his eyes almost as if steeling himself.   
I pause.   
What do I remember?  
I search my memories blindly. I remember Lennox taking me long ago. I remember being with him. I remember everything relating to him, everything that is him, I remember him.   
But is that all? Is there more?  
I reach out to it and try to coax some of those memories back. My mind is almost locked away with a padlock and memory is failing. I force it back and seek it out.   
Despite Lennox’s attempts at coaxing me out of my nightmares, I do have vivid memories of dreams. I remember flashes of something long ago lost. I remember a man with mismatched eyes who once promised to love me forever. I remember hushed whispers about a future that would never come to pass. I remember laughter and joy enveloping me-  
But more than that, I remember despair.   
I remember years of captivity that never gave way to a rescue. I remember a knight in shining armor that never arrived. I remember abandonment and torment.   
I squeeze my eyes shut as a pounding headache envelops me. My hands shake and I press them firmly at my sides.   
Stop thinking. Stop thinking. Stop thinking.   
I move so that I no longer face the man before me and take a deep breath.   
“Nothing. I don’t remember anything!”  
I fling it with as much anger and rage that I can muster. It isn’t as effective as I wanted. Despite my best attempts, Saerys remains before the cell. If anything, my little outburst has made him get closer.   
“Hannah, look at me,” he murmurs. His hand reaches for me again.   
I sidestep his grip, give him a pointed glare, and cross my arms.   
He takes a deep breath, studies me carefully, and lets his breath out quietly. The light is dim in the cell yet he has seen something he doesn’t like. I look down and see bruises. They dot my arms and peek out underneath my dress. I don’t realize why they seem to bother him so much, they don’t bother me, but I still move my sleeves to cover them.   
Saerys’ hands tighten against the bars of the cell. “ **Who hurt you?** ”  
The question is a hushed murmur. He knows the answer to it yet he asks all the same. Perhaps a part of him needs to hear it out loud.   
I have no desire to say it out loud. Instead, I bite my lip and feel another raging headache warring inside my skull. Being in this cursed castle has brought terrible thoughts that I want stomped out. Memories I had locked away years ago are starting to peek out and they are more trouble than they are worth.   
Feeling another wave of pain, I spin around and march to my cot. I press my hands to my forehead and shake my head. Try to shake the memories of abandonment and betrayal and of a rescue that never occurred.   
“You did, Saerys.”

Years ago, I had wanted to be rescued. I had desperately fought to keep my hope that one day I would be free. I had clung to it like a vice to keep me steady and had flung it as ammunition against Lennox.   
But rescue had never arrived. No one had come for me, no one had saved me, and I had let it go. I had buried the memories deep somewhere where it would be hard to find them and had let myself be reborn.   
And now they’re coming back. Bits and fragments are spinning around and opening up old wounds.   
I don’t remember much, I wasn’t lying to Saerys about that, but I do remember enough to know that I don’t want to remember.   
I don’t want to remember the pain of never being rescued. Don’t want to remember the pain of being trapped in enemy territory. Don’t want to remember this me.   
The me that wasn’t dotted with bruises and in charge of a man with a rage that could terrify the world.   
To remember is to lose the me that I am now, and that me is the one that will survive. The other me, trapped in that cell with a broken leg and an even more broken mind, is already dead.

I twirl the ring around my finger and clench my jaw tightly. The ever present headache wages across my mind and I busy myself with other thoughts. If I can think of something else, something other than the memories trickling in from a life long gone, I can keep myself sane.   
So I focus instead on the ring on my finger. I focus on the way it felt when Lennox had first put it there. Focus on the gentleness of his movements, a stark contrast to those that had left me bruises hours before, and the way he had whispered out his apology.   
I focus on that and let those thoughts fill me instead.  
Years ago, I erased my past and was reborn like a phoenix.   
Today, I will not burn to ash again.

If I wanted Saerys to stay away from me, I am sorely disappointed. Despite my cold rebuffs and dismissals, he keeps coming back. He brings me meals and asks me questions that give me headaches.   
I have not been interrogated, not yet, but I would prefer that over the questions he does ask.   
Today he arrives slowly before the cell and extends me a small rock. It’s smooth and shiny and almost triggers a distant memory in me. I refuse to touch it, frightened that actually holding it will unlock that padlock I’m trying so hard to destroy.   
“What is that?” I fold my arms together and glare defiantly at him.   
Saerys turns the rock over in his palm and stares down at it. “You should remember this Hannah, I gave it to you not long before everything happened. It’s from the demon domain. You said you would take it with you everywhere, but you left it at the campsite that night.”  
That night. The night Lennox had taken me.   
I flinch and press a finger to my temple. “It’s just a rock.”  
Saerys shakes his head and slides it across the floor. It hits the side of my shoe and skids to a halt. I don’t touch it, just stare at it.   
It’s a blue color, almost like his eye, and almost glints in the light. I have a flash of memory, a flash of the rock being dropped on my palm long ago, but it’s gone in a wisp of smoke moments later. Good.   
I kick it back at him, make my refusal clear, and look away.   
“Get out.”  
Saerys takes the stone and stares me down. There’s a familiar pain in his gaze and I force myself to look away. For some reason, his own pain hurts.   
“You remember me, Hannah, I know you do. You wouldn’t look so sad otherwise. Please, tell me what you remember.”  
He presses his face to the bars. I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep from saying anything.   
Saerys closes his eyes and leans forward so his forehead is parallel to the ground.   
“He did something to you, something twisted, but I will right it. He’s gone, Hannah, he won’t come back.” He meets my gaze.   
I wince and jerk up. My head pounds rapidly and almost echoes my heart.   
He’s gone, Hannah, he won’t come back.  
The words are so familiar. I hear them almost distantly in someone else’s voice. Lennox’s.   
Again, those memories of despair try to resurface. Again, I push them back.   
“You didn’t come back either, Saerys.”

By day three, my mind is at its limit. I pace my cell endlessly and fill my thoughts with Lennox. I force myself to remember his voice, his scent, his taste. Anything to keep Saerys out.   
Whenever my locked memories stray too close to the surface, I press my hands to my ears and force myself to practice what Lennox taught me.   
Whenever I had one of my episodes, the ones where breathing became difficult and I almost passed out, Lennox would coax me out of them. He would whisper in my ear for me to come back to him, would hold me against him until they dissipated, and let me kiss the terrible memories away.   
I focus on that and block Saerys out.   
He still hasn’t given up, he’s perched on the ground reciting a memory of his where we had taken a vacation to the coastal domain, but I tune him out.   
He is like a poison to me. I’ve worked so hard to block him out, yet he continues to push and push.   
Eventually, it becomes too much and I whirl around so I face him. I shove him through the bars, the surprise of which sends him back half a step, and beat my hands against the bars.   
“Just leave! Leave me alone!”  
I slam the bars again for good measure and press my hands to my pounding temples.   
Saerys ignores me and reaches his hand towards me. He holds my hand for half a second before I dive out of his grasp. My nails go for the bandage at my neck in warning and he stops.   
“Hannah, it’s okay. He can not get to you anymore. You are free,” he says. He raises his hands before him to show me he means no harm. I feel like screaming.   
“Go. Leave me alone. Isn’t it bad enough that you tore me from him?!”   
I shake and pace to calm my racing thoughts.   
Saerys shakes his head. “I saved you from him. He took you from me.”  
I dig my nails into my temples. “I was never yours.”  
It’s not entirely a lie. I was never his to own, I was just his to be with.   
But that was a lifetime ago.   
Saerys clenches his jaw. “But you are his? He sees you as a property, Hannah. You see yourself as his.”  
“Because I am,” I snap. I twirl the ring around my finger for good measure.   
My past life’s memories press against the edge of my consciousness again and I push them back as far as possible. I resist their embrace and instead focus on Lennox.   
Think about Lennox. Ignore the rest. I hold the ring on my finger like a vice.   
The cell door clinks open and Saerys steps in. He holds the key before me and extends it towards me. I eye him wearily.   
“You are not my prisoner. You were his, but you aren’t mine. Come out if you want to,” he murmurs. He extends his hand.   
I eye him and shake my head. No. Going out means being free and one cannot be free when your mind is chained. I stay put.   
Saerys doesn’t inch closer or back. His hand remains an extended invitation and he drops his voice to a soothing whisper.   
“Come with me, Hannah. You are holding back. I know you remember more than what you let on. Please let yourself remember.”  
Another weak plea I force back.   
Remembering means erasing what I already have. I won’t let myself go there.   
“Leave,” I repeat.   
“Not without you.”  
“Leave.”  
I twirl the ring on my finger and press down hard on the band. It leaves imprints on my fingertips and I cling to that. I try and steady myself with the band. My mind is buzzing in millions of directions and I want it to stop.   
Please just stop. Please just stop. Please just stop.   
I repeat it under my breath like a mantra and shove those cursed memories away.   
I will not be a prisoner seeking a savior. I will not be a captive seeking rescue. I will not be a alabe seeking humanity.   
To remember is to be a victim and I am done being a victim. Better to be the villain that destroys the world rather than the civilian that dies in its destruction.   
I shove Saerys away and shake my head. He takes a step back, hurt flashing across his face, and I close the cell door. I lock myself in and inch towards the back of my cell.   
“You never saved me, Saerys. I don’t remember what you want me to remember, but I remember enough to know that you left me when I needed you most. So leave. That’s all you know how to do.”  
He winces, I can almost hear his heartbreak, but I push through. The memories I’m trying to force back are locked tightly away and I hide them in the deepest corners of my mind.   
“I am not Lennox’s prisoner. I chose to be with him. So leave me be. If anyone here is a villain, it’s the man that refused to save me.”  
I clench my jaw and press my hand to my forehead.   
Deep breaths, Hannah.   
I breathe in deeply and concentrate on the pounding of my heart. My headache curves a little. Good. It’s working.   
Saerys take a step back, presses against the hallway wall, and slips the key into my cell. It collides with my shoe and I make no attempt to pick it up.   
He presses his hand to his nose, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. “I tried to save you, Hannah. The castle was impenetrable. I thought you had died. He made it seem like you had. Forgive me.”  
He spins away, tucks his body in to shield himself from my cold refusal, and bends his head.   
“Forgive me,” he repeats it one last time before hurrying away.  
I watch him leave, feel some alien part of me hurt in his wake, then shove my feelings aside. I kick the key away from me and press my fingers to my lips.   
I can never forgive him. If I do, I will lose myself.

Miraculously, Saerys doesn’t return that night. I pace and pace waiting for him to come back with another attempt to crack my resolve, but he doesn’t.   
Instead, someone else appears.   
He moves in the shadows and whispers my name under his breath. I know the voice like I know my own mind. I shoot up from my spot and press my face to the bars.   
The figure emerges from shadow, offers me a confident smirk, and presses a finger to his lips.   
I hold my breath as he tugs on the cell, finds it unlocked from Saerys’ earlier visit, and yanks me towards him.   
I crash into him and hold him steady. The dull headache and confusion I had suffered earlier disappear and I sink into his embrace.   
“Lennox,” I breathe out. I take in his scent and feel his touch.   
Lennox huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, tugs me towards the exit, and winks.   
“ **You haven’t lost me** , Hannah.”  
I take a deep breath and nod.   
“I haven’t,” I agree.   
I intertwine our fingers together, follow him out the dungeons, and take one last look at the cell.   
Years ago, Saerys had failed me and I had forced myself to be redesigned.   
Now, I am anew and I will not be a prisoner again.   
I was a victim once, never again. If I am to exist away from the pages of heroes, let it be as a villain in control.   
With that last thought, I whirl around and follow the one savior that hasn’t abandoned me yet.


	6. “Can’t Get Enough.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: “Ok! I read through some really cute prompts for Lennox and Mc’s reunion! There were some cute domestic ones like cuddling on the couch, and/or one silently playing with the other’s hair. Then some more passionate ones like “can’t get enough” kisses because they missed each other so much. I can’t choose which one I like best!”

Now that Saerys knows I am alive, he will stop at nothing to get me back. He and the others know that I yet breathe and their efforts to save me from the role of a helpless prisoner they themselves have casted me in will be eternal.   
In the days since escaping with Lennox from Reiner’s castle, their efforts to find me double. Word of my kidnapping is spread far and wide, a reward is offered for information, and our trail is chased by the retainers like bloodhounds. For some inconceivable reason, they are despertare to have me back.   
Lennox and I are forced to leave the Witch Queen’s castle. The palace is no longer safe for us, as it is the first place anyone would check for me, so we decide to bolt.   
The war is brewing in every domain and the Dwarven Mountains have been captured by our forces. A General is required to overlook the area to ensure that the people there remain loyal to the Witch Queen, so Lennox is handed the task. Being hidden amidst the Dwarven lands will ensure that we are far from the Retainers. There, beneath the surface, we are safe from their chase and can take a few weeks to gather our bearings.   
It is not a pleasant thing, to be forced to hide under a realm dominated by snow, but we adapt. An inn has been taken hostage by the Witch Queen’s troops and Lennox makes it his headquarters. It is a tiny building with just enough rooms to accommodate the troops. Lennox’s cultists are left behind and only the bare minimum of men needed are brought.   
The inn is hidden within the Dwarven tunnels and I am not allowed to leave the building without a guide to navigate the labyrinth of tunnels. I spend most of my time confined to the building with little place to roam.   
The room we occupy is the largest in the inn, which says a lot compared to how tiny it really is. Lennox has converted half of it as his office space and the other half our room. A small desk is shoved to one side where Lennox spends hours poured over old maps and documents planning his next attack. Opposite of that side of the room, our bed is shoved against one wall. I spend most of our time there, busying myself with whatever tasks he gives me to keep my mind occupied, and Lennox alternates between yelling at his troops in the inn’s downstairs and scribbling notes on parchment at his desk.   
I see him very little throughout the day, just the afternoons when he is working at his desk or at night when he is done and curled at my side. We are so close yet so far most of the time. I believe the days spent apart, the days I spent locked up in Reiner’s dungeon, has done something to the both of us.   
Lennox has changed although I can’t tell if it is for the better or for the worse. He wanders like a ghost and rambles under his breath when he believes I can’t hear. Losing me has seemingly ignited something in him, something primal and terrifying, and he scarcely knows what to do with himself. He has grown more possessive, less reserved, and he opposes less to my displays of affection. Unlike before where he complained anytime I touched him or embraced him, now he says nothing and just accepts the affection.  
Some time ago, a part of me would have felt very pleased with this development; however, I fear I have changed too.   
I spend three years trying to hide my past behind mental walls and locks. Anything relating to who I used to be was shoved into a locked chest in favor of the new personality I had developed for myself, yet Saerys flung that lock open. Memories of times past had flooded me despite my wishes and now it is hard to shake them off.   
Sometimes I awaken at night chilled to the bone. Sometimes I jolt away from Lennox’s touch as if it were hot iron. Sometimes I wonder if maybe this is what I am meant for, if maybe there is more to life than just being the echo to his words. Sometimes I yearn for the freedom I lost.   
We are tucked into the couch as the candle light fades and flickers in the room. Lennox has finished his work for the day, papers stacked on the desk with the ink drying, and he has sought solace in my presence. His hands comb through my hair absentmindedly and his gaze is distant. His thoughts race miles away from me and I wish I could bridge the chasm that has opened up between us.   
My fingers trace the bruises where Saerys’ hands left marks on his neck. Lennox had almost died before me and that memory haunts me still. The sight of him almost reduced to nothing as Saerys choked the life out of him is one that screams at me in dreams and torments me in waking hours. I had almost thought Lennox a god, invincible and eternal, and the reminder that he is as mortal as I is a cold splash of water.   
The ring on my finger sparkles in the low candle’s flame. I watch the reflections of light dance across his skin. I missed him in my brief captivity, that I cannot deny, yet I feel as if something has wedged between us putting distance. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, yet I wonder if it sometimes causes emotion to fade just as easy.   
Lennox’s mouth is bruised from where he has kissed me multiple times, lips swollen where my teeth had nipped at the skin, yet he seems not to notice. My fingers are at his jacket tugging him closer as his own hands pull me flush into him. One of my legs is strung over his lap while the other is at his back. The couch is digging into my back as he leans into me desperate for a further connection. The position is entire awkward and uncomfortable yet I welcome any part of him I can touch. Perhaps if I establish a physical connection between us, let myself feel him close, I can fool myself into thinking that I am not slowly straying from him.   
His mouth seeks me out desperately and I have to push at his chest to break away. My lungs ache with the loss of air and I regain my breathing. While I catch my breath, he wastes no time and dives for my neck. I feel sharp stings of pain where he leaves a trail of bites. Where his teeth hurt, his tongue apologizes. I close my eyes and lose myself in the feeling yet find my mind wandering away.   
A part of me projects out of my body. My consciousness fades like ink on paper and another little alarm bell rings at the very back of my mind.   
Saerys had given me a choice, had made it expressively clear that I was not his prisoner, yet what has Lennox granted me?   
The thought chills me and I shiver. Suddenly, Lennox’s touch becomes a vital necessity. I try to chase away the horrible thoughts of Saerys and freedom with Lennox.   
I lean forward into him until it physically hurts. My name spills from his lips in a pained whisper yet he welcomes the harsh embrace. He lets himself fall back on the couch and I move to straddle him **almost as if I can’t get enough**.   
For a moment we pause and I regain my bearings. This is another difference I have found. Where once Lennox would shove me off and call me annoying, mock me for wanting to spend time at his side, now he almost craves my presence. The man that used to look down on me is gone and has been replaced by something more possessive.   
Perhaps I should be thankful for that, days ago I would have nearly wept with joy, but now it only leaves a hollow ache in my chest. I would rejoice at the fact that Lennox has seemingly grown closer to me-   
If it weren’t for the fact that obsession shines in his gaze rather than love.   
He is obsessed, I realize. His eyes are burning now with lust, but something else spirals in his amber eyes. Something entirely dangerous glints there, glittering like fool’s gold, and my hands begin to shake.   
I feel his excitement as I press myself closer. His breath hitches and he moves his arms to my hair. His fingers twine in the strands and his eyes meet mine. There is a dangerous light of possession there that sends a shiver down my spine.   
Am I his to be or his to own? Does he call me his like a lover or an owner?   
Again, I am reminded of Saerys. Saerys had opened that cell door for me, offered me a way out if I had wanted it, but what had Lennox offered me?   
I move my leg just at the wrong angle and pain flares up. The knee that he had broken once aches dully and I hiss. Immediately, whatever excitement had been coursing through me shatters.   
As if his touch were acid, I move away from him and move from his lap. I land on the sofa and bite the inside of my cheek hard. My hand goes for my knee to smooth out the pain.   
“Hannah?” Lennox moves his body so that he can see me properly. Lust fades out of his gaze in favor of confusion.   
Something in me shivers at the way he pronounces my name. I have no idea if it is out of affection or disgust yet I desperately want it to be the former. I have spent years at his side, to feel doubt now is too hard to bear.   
I have to push these thoughts away, chase away memories of Saerys, and take back some of my sanity. Years ago I locked away who I was behind a lock and key, today I cannot let that girl escape. If I do, everything I have been thorough these three years is all for naught. Somehow that’s terrifying.   
“I’m fine,” I murmur. I force my voice to sound soft and loving. My hand goes for Lennox’s hair and I ease myself at his side. His scent of expensive perfume and blood makes my stomach twist with some revulsion. I no longer feel entirely at home next to him.   
Treasonous thoughts invade my mind and I shove them out with a strength I need to survive. My hand moves to Lennox’s face and I press a light kiss on his neck right where Saerys had almost snapped the bone.   
Immediately I grimace and wipe all memories of Saerys from my mind. A dull ache is beginning in my forehead and I want nothing more than to curl up next to Lennox and sink into sleep, yet what awaits me if I go? Will I be blessed with good dreams at his side or tormented by nightmares of my old life?   
“What’s on your mind?” Lennox asks. His voice is gruff, a little annoyed, yet he lets me curl into his chest. His fingers trace down the strands of my hair and he brushes some strands from my face almost tenderly. Had I not known the horrible temper that simmers under his skin, perhaps I would think him kindhearted in that moment.   
I take a deep breath just to stall. His eyes are boring into mine and I can still see that dark light in them. He is a cult leader, I remember, a devout follower of a pretend god, and devotion comes to him as an instinct. Now, maddened obsession burns in his eyes.   
That is what happened to him in my absence. A part of him grew possessive over me. His attention to me is all-consuming and just a little frightening. Is this what it is like to be a deity? Perhaps this is why the gods stay away from us. Perhaps our devotion frightens them away.   
I close my eyes and let myself just feel his fingers in my hair. He is careful not to tug on the strands or hurt me. He is in a good mood today, I realize, he will not harm me tonight without a reason to-  
But is that normal? Is it normal for me to have to worry about being hurt by the person I love most?   
A little voice inside my head tells me no, reminds me that Saerys never harmed me or raised his voice, but I shove it away and lock it behind a heavy door. I must not let anything terrible bleed through.   
Instead, I sigh.   
“Saerys will never stop now that he knows I am alive. We can’t keep hiding forever,” I remind him.   
At Saerys’ name, Lennox tenses. He rolls his eyes and arrogance burns in his gaze. Like a peacock unfurling his feathers, he raises his shoulders in cool bravado.   
“He will never find us here. The false lord and his underlings are running around like chickens with their heads cut off in the human domain. They will never think to search here,” Lennox calmly rebuffs.   
I bite my lip. “And if he does?”  
Another eye roll. “Then I defeat him. I have been meaning to end his race for a very long time.”   
I eye his neck ripe with bruises from their last encounter and doubt his answer. Still, I decide to let him have his moment. Sometimes it is better to keep quiet and allow things to run their own course.   
I stare at the flickering candle light with growing apprehension. My stomach twists with fear. Saerys seemed intent to rescue me and I doubt he will abandon his efforts easily.   
Lennox runs his fingers through my hair and his eyes take on a faraway glint. I can almost see his thoughts running like a locomotive train a million miles away from me. Bizarre that I never saw just how much insanity was in him before.   
“Let’s say he does,” I state carefully, “What will happen then? What do we do if he corners us? If fighting no longer becomes an option?”  
My voice rises by the end of the question almost with a note of hysteria. I can imagine that scenario play out. Saerys cornering us, demanding my release, Lennox holding me tight to him in refusal. Would I stay glued to his side, holding on to him tightly and refusing to go? Or would I run away and escape? Does a part of me, a twisted remnant of my old self, still yearn to be free?   
I feel sick suddenly and shudder.   
Lennox thinks on my question for a long while, I can see him weighing out the different scenarios in his head, and I wait with baited breath.   
I want a reassurance that everything will be okay. I want that cold bravado of his to scoff and tell me that, that will never happen. I want some type of promise that I will always be safe at his side and that I am more than just a possession for him to own and flaunt and sleep with-  
Yet he says none of that. Instead, his gold eyes blaze with another obsessive light and he tightens his grip on my hair.   
His words are a terrible promise, a twisted prophecy that makes my head spin, and he raises our clasped hands up. Our false wedding rings glint together in the weak candlelight and my body shakes at the implication.   
There is madness, true obsession, in his eyes when he answers my question in a completely deadpan and sure tone.   
“Then we die together. ‘Till death do us part.”


End file.
